Light at the End of the Tunnel
by zoned-out
Summary: A harsh shiver racked his emaciated form as an icy chill spread throughout his cell. The dementors were coming, oh no, he, he couldn’t live through it again. No, he didn’t want to…


Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.  
-William Shakespeare

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**Light at the End of the Tunnel**

Azkaban, a place that gave even the great Albus Dumbledore the shivers. Set on a remote island miles away from even the most primitive forms of civilisation, and ruled by merciless creatures that existed only to leave trails of despair and utter hopelessness in their wake, it could make even the strongest of wizards beg shamelessly for death.

A prison reserved for only the most vicious and cruel wizards, even the workers dared not go in, lest they give in to the sheer misery that hung listlessly in the air, smothering all that dare enter. The only time they _ever_ went in was once every six months, when the dementors were forced out, to make sure that everything was alright and that there weren't any rotting corpses wasting away in their cells.

Even then the workers were quite reluctant to step foot into the most guarded and secure prison in the world, as the prisoners were more than enough to scare them off. Left alone with only the dementors to leech off of them for years, many lost their minds within the hour, all except one…

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sirius Orion Polaris Black, the only wizard in all of time able to stay sane in the face of the hundreds of dementors that freely roamed the daunting halls of Azkaban, sighed wearily as he heard the piercing screams echoing through the large halls of Azkaban once more.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Even after all these years of always waking up, hoping that this was all just a really bad dream and, every morning (at least he thought it was morning) hearing the piercing screams echoing throughout the intimidating prison walls, he still wasn't used to it. Wrongly accused of the murder of twelve muggles and one wizard and uselessly locked up behind tough, iron bars while the real killer wandered freely around outside of the daunting prison walls that imprisoned him, free to live his life, he still wasn't used to waking up every morning to the welcoming screams of manic Death Eaters who had receded into the relative safety of their own minds and given into insanity, unable to cope with the harsh reality of reliving their worst memories over and over again with no hope of ever escaping.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A bitter laugh burst from his lips as the irony of the situation hit him full-force. Those…people, for lack of a better term, who had ruthlessly tortured and _murdered_ other human beings, had been able to escape their rightfully earned punishments by withdrawing into their own minds while _he_, an innocent victim of the flawed justice system, was forced to suffer daily through the harsh punishments of the heartless dementors. How…fitting.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

All too late he realised the harsh repercussions of that one laugh, as dementors started swarming to his cell like crazy, hormonal, pregnant women to a box of chocolate. Dementors feed off of emotions, and what better way to ring the lunch bell than start laughing in the midst of cruel, heartless, blood-sucking leeches that lived to leech the happiness out of unsuspecting individuals?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A harsh shiver racked his emaciated form as an icy chill spread throughout his cell. The dementors were coming, oh no, he, he couldn't live through it again. No, he didn't want to…

Drip. Drip. Drip.

No, I'm innocent. No! They can't, can't make me go through this again, I'm innocent…come on, focus, can't think about it. Clear your mind…

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was a futile hope, to fend the dementors off. The only way to do that would be the patronus, but they really couldn't leave a mad mass murderer his wand, now could they? No, they had to callously snap it in half, right in front of him, laughing all the while.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The dementors closed in, sucking out all the happy memories he had managed to salvage in the time since their last visit. A new scream was soon added to the cacophony of maniacal laughter and piercing screams that reverberated through the walls of Azkaban, as another unfortunate prisoner was forced to once again endure the cruel punishments of the merciless Azkaban guards. All the while, a steady drip of rainwater leaked through the cheap, prison roof, a cheap reminder of life outside of the daunting walls of Azkaban, the highest security prison in the world.

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A/N: So, another story by the Oh so wonderful me, lol. Well, I hope you liked it, I know I liked writing it. A way to vent, you know, when you're all depressed and shit? Yeah…well, I'd really appreciate it if someone actually reviewed this time, instead of just reading it and leaving, even if just to tell me how much it sucked. Cuz I know it wasn't amazing and shit, so there's gotta be stuff I can improve on, right? And yes, I know it's really short (even for me it's short) but it's the prologue, and aren't all of those s'posed to be short? And yeah, I also know that the title is crappy, but I suk at titles. If anyone has any ideas, could you maybe send them to me in a review? Thanx, I'll try to have the next chapter up by next week, but no promises. And, hey, you might even get it early if I get enough inspiring reviews…hint hint…lol. Well, I'll be leaving now.

ciao,

zoned-out

P.S. Just out of curiosity, did anyone read my other HP fic and actually listen to Rise Against? If not, THEY'RE THE BEST BAND U'LL EVER LISTEN TO!

Bye, lol. **:P**


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